George

I hang my jacket on the coat rack. Stepping into the living room, I spot my mom lounging on the sofa. She looks up, her eyes flickering with something I can't quite place. Guilt? Worry? I can't tell anymore.

"Where's Jessica?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, casual even. But I know she'll catch the edge, the sharpness I can't hide.

She shrugs, looking at the TV, not me. "I don't know. She didn't say where she went."

The words came out ...